


I Wanna Be Your Left Hand Man

by LadyShadowphyre



Series: tumblr prompt basket [32]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Cain (Supernatural) (mentioned) - Freeform, Crowley (Supernatural) (mentioned) - Freeform, Dean Is Never Done Trying To Save Sam, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Gen, Protective Dean Winchester, Set between Seasons 6 and 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 19:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowphyre/pseuds/LadyShadowphyre
Summary: Castiel broke the Wall in Sam's head, then disappeared to open Purgatory and fight Raphael. Dean tried to go after him, but failed. When he returned to Bobby's, Sam was gone and, according to Bobby, had gone to take the Throne of Hell. John Winchester may have said to either save Sam or kill him, but Dean knows which side of that divide he will always come down on, no matter what.





	I Wanna Be Your Left Hand Man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr anon who prompted "Boyking!Sam and Dean actually getting through to him?"

**D**EAN WINCHESTER HATED Hell. It was full of the stench of sulphur, and demons, and bad memories of Alistair and the racks. Given a choice, Hell was the last place Dean would want to go into, even armed, and especially alone. But he was alone. Castiel was gone, maybe even dead again, and no other angel was willing to help a Winchester after the Apocalypse was thwarted.

So here he was, armed with the world’s oldest and clumsiest knife in existence, literally cutting his way through a swath of demons who all seemed determined to get in his way as much as possible. It felt like he’d been fighting non-stop for weeks just to get this far, but he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His arm burned with the power of destruction and rage as he sliced through yet another demon and shoved it to the side. He couldn’t stop. He had a mission, and since he’d be damned one way or the other he was damn well going to complete it.

It felt like a small eternity before the doors to Hell’s throne room loomed ahead of him, black obsidian and ornate gold. Two heavily armed demons stood guard on either side, but unlike every other demon he’d encountered so far these two didn’t attack. It took some effort, more than he was used to, but Dean reined in the rage and growled tightly, “You gonna give me trouble too?”

“You look like you’ve had quite a bit of trouble already,” the leftmost guard said, smirk audible even if the meatsuit’s expression remained blank. “Why shouldn’t we give you more?”

“Nobody keeps me away from my brother,” Dean snarled, tensing in preparation. To his surprise, the rightmost guard laughed.

“Still the same old Dean Winchester,” the demon purred. “Very well. The King will see you now.”

Both demon guards slammed the butts of their glaives into the stone floor with a loud clang, and the doors to the throne room swung open. Dean eyed them both suspiciously, but when neither one made any further move towards him he squared his shoulders and strode into the massive hall.

“Hey, Sammy!” he called out to the black-clad figure seated on the elaborate iron throne. “Quite the welcoming committee you put out for me!”

“You know how demons get, Dean,” Sam sighed, his voice echoing with compressed power in the empty room despite the quiet tone. “To be honest, I kind of expected you to be here sooner.”

“Yeah, well, had to make a quick stop first,” Dean said. The First Blade spun in his fingers as he held it up, the light of hellfire glinting off the polished bone and enamel of the ancient donkey’s jawbone that formed the crude blade. From the shift in Sam’s posture, he recognized it.

“The First Blade,” he murmured. He took a shuddering breath, then said in a painfully neutral tone, “That’s for me, then?”

“Eeyup,” Dean popped the ‘p’ on the end and, before he had to watch the pain on his brother’s face deepen any further, he tossed the blade underhand to clatter on the floor before the throne. “Figured it’s only polite to bring you a coronation present.”

Crowley had not taken his deposition from the Throne of Hell very well, so when Dean summoned him for help getting his brother back the oily demon had been all too happy to tell Dean all about the First Blade, the original weapon of the Father of Murder, where to find it, and even how to use it. He’d taken Dean to Cain himself, waiting outside the door while Dean spoke with Cain, explaining that his brother had become the King of Hell and that he wasn’t giving up on protecting Sam no matter what everyone else seemed to think. The Mark had burned when Cain gave it to him, as had the knowledge of what it could and would do to him besides give him the strength to wield the First Blade, but Dean had felt the price worth it. The Blade’s first victim at his hand had been Crowley. The second had been Cain at his request, though not before Dean had gotten in the last word.

_“You don’t protect your little brother by killing him, dumbass!”_

“Dean?” Sam asked, staring from the Blade on the ground to his brother. Dean rolled up his sleeve and showed him the Mark.

“Got a nifty little new tattoo, too,” he said as casually as he could. “I die with this on me, I become a demon. Well… Knight of Hell, actually.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam whispered, still staring at Dean as if he’d already grown horns and a tail or something. “You… why?”

“Because I don’t understand either,” Dean huffed, throwing up his hands. “I don’t get why you went and took the Throne of Hell _now_ of all times, but I know you. I know you wouldn’t have done it without a damn good reason. So.” He waggled his arm. “Kinda hoping you’ll explain it to me eventually, but in the meantime this makes me your new most loyal subject, Sammy.”

“You… really?” Sam actually looked like he might cry. “You’re here to… support me? Not kill me?”

“Not killing you,” Dean confirmed, folding his arms across his chest. “And I kinda wanna smack you for thinking I would. You want me to get on one knee or something here? Take my fucking oath of loyalty already and tell me the plan!”

And Sam did.

**=The Beginning=**


End file.
